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Finally, instead of resisting, she merely sighed with resignation. “Fine. But there’s no way you can go anywhere looking like that.”
“Like what? Do I look that sick?”
“No, it’s just . . .” She glanced at Galyn.
“Everyone knows who you are,” Galyn said, gesturing at Jonas with both hands. “Your face is famous around here, remember?”
Of course. The posters plastered all around Mytica, offering a handsome reward for the capture of Jonas Agallon, rebel leader and (falsely accused) murderer of Queen Althea Damora, had ensured that. He’d been recognized several times in recent weeks, especially in Auranos.
“Fine. I need a disguise,” he said, raising a brow at Lysandra. “But so do you. A huge audience got a nice, long glimpse of you at your interrupted execution.”
She dropped her gear again. “You may be right.”
Jonas touched his dark brown hair, long enough to curl around his ears and drop down in front of his eyes if he didn’t constantly push it back. “I’ll cut my hair.”
“That’s a start,” Galyn said. “And you’re in luck. I have an eye patch you can use. Got stung by a needle-bug a few years ago and had to wear it for a month.”
An eye patch? He tried not to grimace at the thought of losing half his vision, even temporarily. “Yeah . . . that sounds, uh, great. I guess. Thanks.”
Lysandra pulled a dagger out of her canvas bag. “I’ll cut your hair as soon as I’ve done my own.”
She raised the blade to one of her long, curly locks, but Jonas caught her hand. “You’re not cutting your hair.”
She frowned as he quickly disarmed her. “And why not?”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Because I like your hair exactly as it is. Gorgeous and impossible to control, just like you.”
Her hands were on her hips, and he could tell she was fighting a smile. “Then what kind of a disguise do you suggest for me?”
His smile grew. “Simple. A gown.”
Lysandra’s eyes widened. “A gown?”
“A pretty one. Silk, if possible. Galyn? Do you have anything lying around here that a guest might have left behind?”
The innkeeper chuckled. “Actually, I think I have one of my mother’s old gowns around here somewhere.”
“Good,” Jonas said, deeply amused at the outraged look on Lys’s face. “It seems we’ll be ready and unrecognizable in no time. Let’s get going.”
CHAPTER 3
CLEO
LIMEROS
Her sister, Emilia, once said that she could tell Cleo’s mood by the state of her left thumbnail. Whenever Cleo was stressed or upset, she chewed it down to the quick. According to her nursemaid, she’d also sucked her thumb many years longer than the average child, so Cleo supposed that her nail-biting habit was a natural evolution.
A quick, sharp pain tugged at Cleo’s scalp. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, pulling her sore thumb away from her mouth.
She saw her attendant Petrina’s eyes widen in the mirror. The girl held a small swath of Cleo’s long blond hair. “Oh, your grace, I apologize! I didn’t intend to . . . I’ve never attempted this sort of style before.”
“Ripping my hair out by its roots is not the best way to learn,” Cleo said, her scalp still throbbing. She willed herself to be patient with Petrina, even though she was certain that even Nic could do a better job plaiting her hair.
How she wished Nerissa were here in Limeros, rather than being at the Auranian palace. Nerissa wasn’t just a good friend and Cleo’s main connection to Jonas Agallon, but she was also an incredibly skilled attendant.
“I don’t know what to say, your highness. The prince will be furious if he learns I’m inept. He’ll have me punished!”
“The prince won’t punish you,” Cleo assured her, patting her hand. “I won’t let him.”
